Your Protector
by Sardixiis
Summary: He was supposed to be their protector. The one to keep them safe. But with this stalker out there, even though it's the time his family needs his protection most, there's nothing he can do to help them. That feeling of failure won't result in good things. In the end, he might be the one in need of protection. A fic exchange story.
1. Chapter 1

**Your Protector**

 _This is a fic exchange story for the prompt "Elizabeth or Henry develop a problem with self-injury." I hope whoever requested this enjoys it! And that it's at least something like what you wanted. This story takes place during the whole stalker mess at the beginning of season 3. Shockingly enough, aspects of this story fit perfectly into the canon story line even though this story was done before the stalker situation was revealed in canon. It's a two shot because I can't write anything short…_

Chapter One

Elizabeth stumbled through the door well after midnight. The house was dark and quiet, which was really a good thing since it meant she could go right up to bed without any interruptions. After throwing her coat and bags onto a chair in the office that was exactly where she headed.

Apparently not everyone was as asleep as she'd originally thought because when she reached the top of the stairs a bedroom door opened.

"Mom?"

Jason was in his pajamas and had clearly been lying in bed given his tousled hair. He hadn't been asleep though, that much was just as clear. At first Elizabeth wanted to ask what he was doing awake, but then the expression on his face penetrated her exhausted brain. He'd been waiting up for her with something to report, and not something good either. She took a step toward him, and he immediately retreated into his room so she could join him there and close the door behind them.

"How bad?"

Jason's face crumpled and he looked up at her with such pleading in his eyes that it nearly broke Elizabeth's heart.

"Bad. I'm pretty sure there was even blood this time and not just bruises."

Elizabeth closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Blood. She really shouldn't be surprised given the situation. It was a situation she needed to put a stop to now. It had gone too far. She couldn't just wait it out anymore.

"Mom?"

She opened her eyes again and was stunned to see Jason nearly shaking. He was afraid. All the more reason for her to stop this.

"Let me handle this, Jason. It will be alright. Believe me."

"But…"

"I'll talk to your father tomorrow. We'll get it sorted out."

Jason hung his head and didn't look entirely convinced, but he wasn't going to argue. He'd gone to his mom in the first place because he hadn't known what to do.

Elizabeth slid her arm around his shoulders and guided him back to bed.

"Come on. You need to sleep. You have school tomorrow."

He nodded mutely and scrambled into bed. After he had gotten himself settled she leaned down and kissed his temple.

"I'm going to take care of this. I promise," she whispered into his ear.

Jason gave no response, but Elizabeth hadn't been expecting one. She turned away and finally headed toward her own room. Henry was already asleep, sprawled on his side on his half of the bed. Not wanting to wake him, she turned on one of the bedside table lamps. It gave her enough light to see by but still kept the room relatively dark. She got ready for bed as quickly as she could. Sleep was desperately calling her. As she came back around to her side of the bed she realized that with Henry facing the way he was his right hand was up and the knuckles were visible. Even in the half light of the room she thought she could see broken skin. The blood spots Jason had been talking about. It sent a terrible sickening feeling through her.

"Oh, Henry. What have you done?"

She should have put a stop to this a long time ago. True as that was, it could wait one more day. Waking Henry up and facing him now would not be a good idea. She was far too tired, and this was going to take all of her skill. There would be a better chance of getting through to Henry when she was close to 100%. That would come after she slept.

Elizabeth crawled into bed, careful not to bump Henry's hand as she did. Despite how tired she was, sleep might evade her that night.

She'd first spotted the bruising on Henry's knuckles over a week ago. The first time she hadn't thought anything of it, but then she'd seen fresh bruises in the same place in the days after. It hadn't taken long after that for the pieces to click together. He hadn't been punching Ray Merchant, of that she was sure, but he had been punching something. She had understood the need to get some of the anger out, but the bruising hadn't stopped. Even Jason had noticed and brought it to her attention. Since then she'd used her son as a spy. He was home a lot more than she was, so he would have seen more than she would have. After the first few times it had been nearly impossible to tell if there were any fresh wounds. At least until that day. Now it was clear the frustration that had built up from their unresolved stalker situation was still there, still bubbling. If it kept going Henry was going to explode, and Elizabeth couldn't let that happen.

Tomorrow. Tomorrow she was going to face Henry down and get all of this out in the open. It couldn't go on anymore.

O . o . O . o . O

Elizabeth carefully closed their bedroom door and positioned herself in front of it. Henry barely glanced up at her from his spot on the bed. He was busy grading and not about to be distracted. Or so he thought.

"Whatever plans you might have right now, consider them suspended. We're going to talk, and it's not an option, Henry."

He looked up at her over the top of his glasses, clearly surprised.

"Now? I really need to get these graded, Babe. I'm seriously behind."

In that moment he looked so calm, like nothing at all was wrong. If she hadn't been spooling up for this conversation all day, if she didn't know it absolutely had to happen, she might have backed down and let him finish his work. She couldn't though. Not anymore.

"I said it's not an option."

Her tone of voice startled Henry further. He pulled his glasses off and set them aside.

"What's going on, Elizabeth? What's wrong?"

She didn't answer him as she walked to the side of the bed and held out her hand.

"Give me your hand."

Confusion plain on his face, Henry did what she asked. It was his left hand though. He had to know what she was getting at, but there wasn't anything indicating that on his face. He just appeared innocent and confused.

"No, Henry. The other one. The one that's been covered in blood and bruises for the last week."

He dropped his left hand back into his lap but didn't offer her the right one.

"It's nothing, Babe."

"No, Henry. It's not nothing."

She gathered his right hand gently into hers and turned his knuckles up. They were even more swollen than they had been before. In an up close inspection the mix of faded yellow and deep purple bruises were all too clear. Far more than one or two impacts had occurred.

"What have you been hitting?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he told her as he pulled his hand out of her grasp.

"Yes you do. Henry!"

"Drop it, Elizabeth!"

But she wasn't about to do that. She knew now, without any doubt, that if she didn't intervene this would keep happening. It had to stop. She couldn't let her husband, her sweet, sweet Henry, keep hurting himself.

"I can't do that. I can't let you keep hurting yourself. Those bruises on your hand are from punching something. Walls I'm guessing."

She'd barely finished that sentence when Henry slid out of bed and pushed past her. He wasn't going to escape this conversation though. Elizabeth beat Henry to the door and placed herself in front of it.

"No, Henry. This discussion isn't over. I know you're frustrated that nothing has improved, that we're still targets and there's nothing you can do to fix it. I understand that. The problem is you're not handling it well."

"I'm handling it fine."

He tried to reach past her for the doorknob, but she sidestepped and blocked it completely.

"Hitting walls, or whatever else, isn't handling it fine," she retorted while she glared up at him, hoping she would get through.

"You don't –"

" _Jason_ noticed, Henry. He came to me, confused by what he was seeing and scared he was interpreting it correctly. He saw his father hurting himself, and that terrified him more than anything that's happened with the stalker."

She wanted to ask if he understood how big that was, but she didn't need to. The anger and defiance in Henry's eyes had faded away. His mouth was hanging partway open in disbelief and horror. It was the expression she'd started calling his "Iran face," the one he'd worn when she'd walked out that door.

"Is he alright?"

Elizabeth sighed. That was a rather complicated question, and one that was avoiding the bigger problem in her mind.

"I talked to him, and I'm sure I'll be doing so again."

Henry's expression crumpled, and he turned away. After sitting down on the edge of the bed he dropped his head into his hands. Clearly he wasn't about to try and escape this conversation again, so Elizabeth felt it was safe to leave the path to the door open. She moved to his side and ran a hand through his hair. As she did she couldn't stop her eyes from coming to rest on his knuckles. There was no way they didn't hurt.

"Have you been icing this?" she asked as she very gently ran a finger over the damaged knuckles.

Henry didn't flinch away from the light touch, but his face tightened. His hand definitely hurt.

"No."

Elizabeth hadn't truly been expecting a different answer, but she still didn't like hearing the confirmation.

"Alright. I'm going to get you some ice, and when I get back we're going to talk. I want to know what brought you to this."

She kissed the top of his head and smoothed a hand down his back. He didn't even look up. Holding back another sigh she left him to think about his answer. Ice would help his knuckles, but talking would do him even more good.

When she got back she found Henry had shifted so he was leaning against the headboard with his hand resting on a pillow on his lap. His eyes were distant as he tried to put words to what he was feeling. Thankfully Elizabeth was willing to wait. She set the ice pack on his hand and perched on the edge of the bed so she could lean against him. While she waited for him to speak she ran her hand up and down his arm.

"Henry?" she finally pressed.

His eyes met hers, but he remained silent. The visible churning of emotions in the depths of his eyes led Elizabeth to reach up and caress his cheek.

"How did it get this far, Henry? Why didn't you talk to me?"

"What good would that have done? The only thing you would have told me was that I have to trust the FBI and your security to keep us safe and find this guy. That's the whole problem, Elizabeth. That I can't... do anything."

"Yes, you can."

"No, Babe, I can't. I'm powerless to stop this from happening. Powerless to protect any of you, and I hate it."

"You're right. You can't stop this and you can't protect us the way you want to, but you're wrong about one thing. There is something you can do. You can stay calm and in control of yourself. Your children are taking their cues on how to react off you, Henry. If you're upset, it tells them there's something real to be afraid of. If you stay calm you'll help keep them calm."

"I'm pissed, Elizabeth. I can't even come up with something I want to do to this guy after what he's done to our family."

"I know you're angry. That's why you're punching walls. As a way to get that anger out."

Anger flashed to guilt, and Henry bowed his head.

"I didn't plan to…"

That answer sent a pang through Elizabeth's heart. The guilt over the unforeseen consequences of his actions had finally set in. It was only going to tear him apart more. Fighting back tears, Elizabeth wrapped her arms around Henry and pulled his head against hers.

"I know you didn't. We just need to find another outlet for you…"

Before he broke his hand, and before this whole mess broke him completely.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

There was a thud on the bed next to him quickly followed by a second thud. Henry was going to ignore that until a cloth was dropped onto his face. He groaned and swatted it aside.

"Come on. Get up and get dressed," Elizabeth demanded. "Your clothes and shoes are on the bed."

Henry peeled his eyes open and glanced at the clock. He didn't need to be up for more than an hour. With another groan he buried his face in his pillow.

"Up, Henry. I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes."

She gave his shoulder a shake to emphasize her request, and then he heard her leave the room. Henry stayed exactly where he was for another minute before pushing himself up. The move sent a bout of pain through his hand that he swiftly ignored. He'd become used to that pain over the last week. A long sleeve shirt and pair of sweatpants had been flung overtop him. The thuds had apparently been caused by a pair of tennis shoes that were thrown across the bed. One of them looked like it had come pretty close to hitting him. After grabbing up the clothing, Henry grudgingly headed to the bathroom to get dressed.

When Henry finally made his way downstairs he found Elizabeth in the kitchen with four of her security agents, all dressed similarly to the way he was. He yawned and rubbed at his face as she stopped nearby.

"Why are we up so early?" he grumbled.

There wasn't even any coffee going, which made the early morning even worse.

"We're giving you a better way to cope. One that's not going to lead to bruised knuckles. Come on," she told him as she gave his shoulder a pat and headed for the door. "The cold air will wake you up."

Now Henry really wished he were back in bed. Even so, he followed his wife and her agents out into the cold of the early morning. He was expecting Elizabeth to get into the car, but instead she turned down the sidewalk and started running. Three of the agents took up position around her. The fourth gave Henry a gentle shove.

"Let's go, Dr. McCord."

 _Running_. What was Elizabeth after with this?

With a shake of his head, Henry started jogging, his longer strides allowing him to quickly catch up with Elizabeth. She would tell him what the point of this was eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later. It wasn't like Elizabeth was much of a runner, but she did more than he did.

At some point during the run Henry simply accepted that they weren't going to stop any time soon, and he let his mind wander. The need to focus on running was at least enough to keep his mind out of bad places.

Eventually Elizabeth slowed to a walk, and everyone else followed suit. Henry thought it was a sign of being done and turning around, but he was wrong.

"Max, you good?" she asked one of the agents set up on point.

"All set, Ma'am."

Elizabeth nodded and swung her gaze to Henry. It looked like he was finally going to get his explanation.

"I want you to run, Henry. As fast as you can, and as far as you can. Run to escape all of the anger you have building up inside of you. Run to beat that feeling of powerlessness. Consider it a race against both of those things, and you can't lose. Until they've both been beaten back to nothing more than a flicker in the background of your mind, you can't stop. Got that?"

For a moment Henry just stared at her. She wanted him to run away from insubstantial feelings? How was that supposed to help?

"Babe, I don't…"

But Elizabeth didn't give him the chance to finish that thought. She grabbed his shoulders and turned him away from her, toward the open sidewalk.

"Trust me, and give it a try."

She gave him a little shove to get him going. Knowing he wasn't going to win, Henry started jogging away. One security agent went with him.

"Henry!" Elizabeth called out, causing him to turn and look at her. "Sprint!"

"Come on, Dr. McCord. Let's run."

Henry's eyes swiveled toward his security agent and he eventually shrugged. He took off running, driving his legs faster and faster. While he could hear his security pounding along beside him, he wasn't paying any attention. The harder he ran the less he had to think. All that mattered was regulating his breathing and ignoring the burning in his legs. At one point he realized Elizabeth had been right. It was rather peaceful despite the pain involved. He pushed himself a little bit further despite his chest and legs screaming requests to stop. When he finally stumbled to a halt he had to brace his hands on his knees to gasp for breath. By the time Elizabeth caught up to him – at a walk he noticed – he was breathing more normally.

"See? You look calmer already."

"Because I'm too tired to be angry," he panted in reply.

He stumbled over to a nearby bench and nearly collapsed onto it. Clearly pleased, Elizabeth settled herself next to him and began rubbing his leg.

"Good. It means you got some of it out."

Henry tipped his head upward, away from his wife, and looked at the sky. She was right in a way. The ache of fear and the burning need to do something were still there, but they were more subdued. It didn't feel like he was being eaten alive by them anymore. He had no idea how long that feeling would last. Maybe only until he walked in the front door, but that was something at least.

Elizabeth gave him the time to think, but eventually she started to worry about where those thoughts were taking him in all that silence. She cupped the far side of his face in her hand and turned him toward her. He did so willingly and met her eyes.

"You can't control everything, Henry. You've had to tell me so many times since I took this job that I can't fix the entire world, no matter how much I may want to. It's time to listen to your own advice. You can't solve everything, and our stalker is one of those things that you have to let someone else handle. The most you can do is stay calm, hug the kids a little bit tighter, and be an example to them of how to handle fear and adversity." She gently stroked his cheek. "Facing fear is always a fight. You can win that fight by not letting it change you for the worse. Use it to become something better."

"That sounds like a quote."

"It is," Elizabeth returned with a grin.

"Whose?"

"Secretary McCord's."

Laughter erupted from Henry. The sound of it sent warmth rushing through Elizabeth. She hadn't heard him laugh in such a long time.

"Well, I hear she's known for giving good advice, so I guess I should listen to it," he returned.

"You should."

She leaned over and kissed him. Henry tried to lean into the kiss, but Elizabeth kept it brief before standing up.

"Now are you ready to go back or do you think you need to run some more?"

"I think I'm good. My lungs are screaming, and my legs will be doing the same tomorrow. No need to make it worse," he replied as he dragged himself off the bench.

"Sore legs are a good thing. Sore knuckles are not."

She kissed his cheek and twined her fingers with his for the walk back to the house.

O . o . O . o . O

They got home around the same time they would normally be getting up, which worked well for Henry. It meant there would be time to do what he felt like needed to be done.

"Hey, Babe? I know you usually leave before I do, but do you mind if I shower first? I want to have time to talk to Jason."

Elizabeth paused and eyed him closely, visibly trying to judge whether or not he was in the right state of mind to have that conversation. She wouldn't deny that it needed to happen, but it had to happen in the right way. What she saw reassured her. There was no anger in Henry's eyes. The most she found was a little bit of guilt, which explained why he wanted to talk to their son. At least his guilt was coming from a place that was real. Henry had no reason to feel guilty for not being able to protect their family from a stalker, but his actions had legitimately hurt Jason.

"Okay. Just make sure you stay in full control for that conversation, Henry. Jason needs to see that control just as much as he needs to understand."

"I know. Don't worry." He gave her a quick kiss. "I'll be careful."

That meant he would have to find a way to explain all of this to his son. It wouldn't be easy, especially since he only had his time in the shower to figure it out. Somehow that was going to have to be enough even though he didn't know how to put it into words for himself.

His time to think went by far too fast, and before he even felt remotely ready he was knocking on Jason's door. He heard a screamed, "Come in," from the other side of the door, braced himself, and entered. Jason looked up and immediately scrambled off the bed, pulling his headphones off as he went.

"Dad?"

"Hey, buddy. You have a minute to talk before breakfast?"

Jason shrugged and seated himself back onto the bed, though this time he was sitting on the edge instead of lying down. Henry saw Jason's gaze dart toward him for a moment before looking away. It didn't take a genius to realize what he'd just done.

"It's not any worse," Henry explained as he lifted his hand up to show his son. "And it's not going to get worse again."

Jason looked up at him questioningly and maybe a little bit nervously. Henry took a steadying breath before sitting down next to his son and patting his knee.

"Do you remember when everyone was talking about Stevie? You were so mad at them for doing it, but you were even angrier with yourself because you hadn't done anything to stop it. You hadn't done anything to protect your sister."

"Yeah. I remember." Then he looked at his father sidelong. "I also remember you telling me that punching them wouldn't make me feel better. At least not for very long."

There was slight accusation in his tone. Henry couldn't blame Jason for that. He had told his son those things, and they'd been true.

"And it wouldn't," he admitted. "That's why you kept seeing more and more bruises. It definitely wasn't the right way to go about coping, but it was the only thing I could come up with at the time. Your mother gave me an alternative though, so the bruised knuckles are over. I promise."

Jason considered his father very carefully. Generally he trusted his father. If he said his time hitting walls was over, then Jason would believe him. There was one thing he didn't understand though.

"Why, Dad? You've never gotten that worked up over something before."

Not even when they'd all nearly blown up. Personally Jason thought they'd been in more danger then than they were right now.

Henry drew in a long, slow breath at that question and released it even more slowly. He rested his hands behind him on the bed and gazed at the ceiling as if it could help him turn everything he'd been feeling into words that his son would understand. Eventually he realized it basically all came down to one thing.

"I was failing, Jas. It's my job to protect you, and your sisters, and your mother, but there was absolutely nothing I could do. Nothing. I just had to sit there and try to convince all of you it would be alright even though I could see how terrified you were and how much the situation was getting to you, especially your mother. It wasn't a good feeling. I admit that I was angry. Angry at the person who's doing this and at myself because I can't stop it."

"So you got so mad at yourself that you hurt yourself?" Jason asked.

"Not intentionally. I was just so mad that I felt like I had to do something or I would explode. I should have remembered that letting anger rule you always leads to bad decisions. I've definitely made my fair share of those recently."

Henry was completely willing to admit that too. He certainly hadn't taught his children how best to handle facing their stalker, but maybe he could still teach them something. Being as forthright as he was being might teach Jason about not letting anger guide decision making.

"Will you forgive me for scaring you?" Henry asked.

Jason rolled his eyes, purposefully exaggerating the motion so his dad would realize just how stupid the question was.

"Of course I forgive you, Dad. And, so you know, you don't have to protect me."

Henry outright laughed as he stood up and ruffled his son's hair. Jason gave him a death glare and immediately tried to smooth his hair back down.

"I will always protect you, Jason, even when you don't really need it anymore. I'm your dad. It's part of my job."

And it was his job. Along with protecting the rest of the family. The fact that he couldn't keep them completely safe still rankled, but he knew now that he was going to have to leave the more large scale protection to the FBI and diplomatic security. His form of protection was going to have to be smaller. His family needed stability and reassurance that everything would eventually be alright. Henry could provide that.

Elizabeth had been right. If he fell apart he would take the whole family down with him. The best way to protect them was to keep acting like himself. There would be comfort in seeing him remain relatively unaffected. From that moment forward he would strive to do that, no matter how hard that might be. He _would_ protect his family.


End file.
